The Perfect Lie
by Billyinvisibledog
Summary: Part 9 in the ‘A Beautiful Lie Series’ with Face and Amy. Posing as husband and wife, Face and Amy face their hardest test and a decision needs to be made. Set during and after ‘The White Ballot’ episode, season 2.
1. Chapter 1

**Part 9 in the 'A Beautiful Lie' Series**

**Title: The Perfect Lie**

**By Billy**

**Summary**: Posing as husband and wife, Face and Amy face their hardest test and a decision needs to be made.

Set during and after 'The White Ballot' episode, season 2.

**Warnings**: None – unless you want spoilers.

**Ratings**: R

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the A-Team and I've not made a penny from this; I just do it for the _jazz_!

_© Billy 2010_

_A lie told often enough becomes the truth – Lenin_

**

* * *

Chapter 1**

Amy sat nervously on the small plane, wondering how she'd gotten herself into this mess. When an old friend, Jim Baker, had called and told her about the dirty campaign Sheriff Dawson was running, she knew this case would interest the team. But Amy hadn't anticipated that she and Face would be arriving together in Parkland, New Mexico posing as newlyweds.

Damn it. Since San Diego and Harper's arrest, she'd managed to put some distance between her and the team – and Face. Amy had done everything in her power not to think about him. She'd lapsed occasionally, of course, in her quietest moments, so she'd kept those to a bare minimum. Over the last few weeks she'd gotten lost in her work, practically living in the office. The Harper stories, with the missing teenage girls, had kept her busy. Interviews with the families had been successful and she'd had the satisfaction of proving that Al Massey was murdered. And Harper going to jail meant Al hadn't died in vain. She still missed Al dearly and his wise advice. She could do with that right now – on this plane with Face, trying to act the dutiful wife, trying not to actually enjoy it.

Face stowed the small hand luggage up above them, then took his seat next to Amy. The other couple on the plane was doing the same, preparing for take-off. Glancing at the empty seats, Amy felt some relief that there were hardly any passengers. Fewer people to pretend to.

"So.... How have you been?" he said, keeping his voice low. They hadn't had any time to themselves till now. The team had gone on ahead, but Face hadn't picked Amy up until today.

"Fine, thanks. Busy at work," she replied, fiddling with the wig she was very conscious of.

Three weeks probably wasn't long enough to dull the feelings she felt, but she had tried to put them behind her. She couldn't let all that hard work unravel. _Do not react to that smile. _

"I noticed the girls' stories in the paper."

_He's been reading my stories. Was that to keep an eye on her? _Amy nodded, trying not to let her hackles rise.

"So you did go back to San Diego then?" His question seemed calm, not angry.

Amy relaxed. She was overreacting. Maybe the time apart had done them good, allowing them both to cool down. They'd left things pretty heated after leaving Maggie's. That was one thing she'd battled with over the past few weeks. She'd wanted to call him. Clear the air. But she'd promised herself to cut contact with him, except regarding team business. Hence, here she was on this plane....

"No, not exactly." Amy shook her head. "Zack was adamant I wasn't going back either, so he went to San Diego for me." Zack wasn't just a colleague, but a good friend too, like Al. He'd seen how reluctant Amy had been to return to San Diego, and had took it upon himself to go there for her.

"Good." Face gave a pleased smile. "Remind me to thank Zack."

"You two make such a beautiful couple." A woman interrupted from across the aisle, her husband mumbling to her to be quiet. "Newlyweds, right?"

Face grinned, snapping instantly into character. "Yeah, we sure are." He brought Amy's hand to his lips and kissed it. Amy blushed, the butterflies resurfacing. "Joe Morgan, and this is my wife, Amy," he said, grinning.

_Everything is an act, remember. Everything you do, he'll only think you're acting - which you are. So stop getting self-conscious about yourself, and play the darn game._

Amy leaned across and shook the woman's hand, smiling sweetly. The woman was delighted with Face and Amy, and made her own introductions. Face played the perfect gentleman, making small talk. That was the last said about San Diego. Amy decided she'd let the expert do his work, and just add to his lines where appropriate. Face's occasional gentle touches on her knee or holding her hand made her nervous, yet surprisingly sent delight through her body. But he only did these small gestures when required, otherwise he'd kept his distance, letting go of her hand once the attention was off them.

_How could someone be so close, yet feel so far away? _

She'd really missed the guys over the recent weeks, but had hoped the longer she kept away, the more her feelings for Face would fade. The more time she had to put life into perspective. She knew Face was no good for her. Face was no good if she wanted to remain on the team – which she did.

So, she'd get over it – or at least look like she had. If Face could pretend, so could she.

Observing Face when she could, unnoticed, he seemed as nervous as her. She wanted to get her notebook and just start scribbling, do the things she did to look busy, so the silence didn't seem so bad. She kicked herself for not remembering some reading material, or something.

Face sighed heavily, making her look at him. Although his head was against the headrest, he was gripping the arm of the seat tightly. She frowned.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, glancing over at the couple to see if they were paying any attention, then looked him in the eye.

Face chuckled, but it sounded forced. "Yeah, yeah... Why?"

"You look tense."

Face instantly relaxed in front of her eyes, putting on another facade. He fell silent, and Amy didn't know what to do to pass the time, trapped on the damn plane beside him. Looking out the window soon bored her, the miniature landscape below not able to distract her thoughts as she intended. She noticed in the pocket in front of her a magazine that a previous traveller had left behind. She pulled it out and started to flick through it, hoping it would distract her enough.

"Funny how I actually feel safer, knowing Murdock's not flying this bird," Face whispered close to her ear, surprising her. The feeling of his breath on her neck sent tingles down her spine. A sensation she secretly cherished. "I feel fairly confident this plane will land safely."

She froze, swallowed, and then quickly nodded in agreement with a smile. Hopefully he hadn't noticed her reaction.

"So when did you two lovebirds get married?" The woman opposite started talking to Face again.

"Two weeks ago," he responded, roping the woman in, telling her some elaborate tale of where they'd been for their honeymoon, how they'd met. Amy resisted rolling her eyes; instead, turning in her seat, she pretended to be interested in the conversation. She watched Face as he spoke to the woman. Here he was now, playing the perfect husband. Could he be a perfect husband?

He'd gotten pretty damn fidgety about marriage that time with Jackie Taylor, when the team helped her.

_And that's why he'd never be good for you. _

Lost deep in her own thoughts, Amy didn't quite catch Face's conversation with the woman. His hand gently brushed her knee and sent goose bumps along her arms, making her shiver out of her reminiscence.

"You okay, honey?" Face asked, frowning, his attention distracted from the couple.

"Yeah, yeah." She smiled as convincingly as she could, and nodded at the couple. "It's just a little chilly on this darn plane, that's all."

He rubbed her arm. "I can think of a couple of things that'll warm you up." Face winked at the couple, who politely chuckled. Amy nudged him playfully.

"Darling!"

"What? They know we're newlyweds, honey." He kissed her cheek. "Just hope there's not too much of a fuss when we land – otherwise it'll delay those things."

Her cheeks flushed hot. She was no longer feeling cold – far from it. She was dismayed about how she'd reacted to Face.

Because it wasn't real. Face was acting. Only a con. And Amy would do well to remember it.

* * *

XXXXX

"I think that went well, don't you?" Face said, after paying the cab driver and watching him pull away. "Come on, let's get checked in."

Amy nodded. The plane had landed on schedule, and, without a hitch, Face successfully threw egg in Dawson's face, rejecting the key to the city. Hannibal, BA and Murdock arrived at the hotel not long after Face and Amy – to her relief, because she and Face had waited awkwardly. The two of them had talked, but it had felt stilted.

Now, except for BA, who'd headed back out carrying camera equipment, they were all in the small double room next door to the one they'd booked in the name of Mr and Mrs Morgan. Hannibal smiled from ear to ear as he told Face and Amy about Dawson's reaction.

Hannibal chuckled. "And that's not the end of it. When he sees what we've got planned -"

"My head is really going to roll," Face said, taking off his cap, and combing a hand through his hair. "Why an earth did I think this was a good idea?"

"We're right behind you, Face. It'll be fine," Hannibal said, slapping Face's back. "Okay, let's get an early night. We've got a campaign to run tomorrow morning. Amy, Face, you two are next door."

"Uh... Hannibal, is that a good idea?" Face asked, his eyes widened momentarily.

Amy scratched at her wig. All of a sudden she felt very uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than being crammed in this small room with the whole team.

BA walked through the door, dropping a duffel bag to the side, adding an emphasis to how crowded the room would be.

"Well, it's going to be a little cramped in here with the five of us," Hannibal said.

"I don't mind cramped," Amy blurted.

"I'll sleep in the van," BA said, shrugging.

But Hannibal continued. "And you're supposed to be a married couple after all."

"What if Murdock went with Face," Amy said quickly. "Wouldn't that be better?"

"Huh?" Murdock looked up from switching on the television.

"Yeah, that might be a better idea," Face added quickly.

Hannibal shook his head. "No, no. If we are being watched, we don't want anyone getting suspicious."

"But at some point Dawson is likely to try and kill me off. I don't think it's a good idea if Amy stays in that room," Face said. He glanced at her. She scowled briefly. Was Face suggesting she be treated with kid gloves - like she'd feared? Was that his only reason?

"You don't think you can handle one of Dawson's deputies?" Hannibal said, grinning at Face.

"No! I mean, yes! Of course I can handle his deputies." Face frowned at Hannibal, his hands on his hips.

"Well then, that's settled." Hannibal looked from Face to Amy. "Amy, do you mind?"

"Uh...." Amy looked at Face, then back at Hannibal. "No, no... If that's what you want, Hannibal. Face?" She stared back at Face. He didn't look happy. She hoped they didn't notice how nervous she'd become. Her nerves trembled and she quickly folded her arms in front of her, hoping that would hide any signs of shaking.

She'd shared a room with Face before. It was no big deal.

"If Amy's okay with it, then I'm okay." Face sighed. Amy hesitantly nodded. "I just don't like the idea -"

"At least it'll make it easier for us with the bathroom," Murdock said over Face, flicking through the TV channels until he found the cartoons.

Face frowned. "I'm sure Amy knows not to take too long-"

"I was talking about you, actually," Murdock said, grinning.

BA giggled. Face's smiled dropped, about to argue but Hannibal chuckled, slapping him on the back.

"Maybe I should go next door on my own," Amy said.

"No!" Face cried, louder than intended because he quickly composed himself, softening his tone. "It's too dangerous for you to be in that room on your own."

"He's right, kid," Hannibal said, nodding.

Amy rolled her eyes. "Okay, just don't hog the bathroom, Face," she said. With a sigh, she grabbed her bag. She guessed he was probably as anxious about this as she was. Sharing a room with Face really wasn't what she needed, but she didn't want to stand around and argue either. How would that look? Besides, she was itching, literally, to take this wig off and change out of these clothes.

"The camera's set up," BA said, handing Face the key to the room. "Remember to check the tape. Leave it on."

"Yeah!" Murdock said, taking his attention away from the cartoons. "So we get the recording of the sheriff attempting your assassination!" Face glared at him but Amy had to chuckle.

"Come on," she said, tugging Face's arm, and walked out of the room. "I think we'll be safe tonight." Putting his cap back on, Face grabbed his own things and followed her to the room next door.

"After you," he said, opening the door. Amy walked into the room. It was a mirror image to the room they'd just been in. The double bed was the main feature of the room, with a wardrobe beside it and a small dressing table opposite the end of the bed.

It wasn't like they were on their own, really - the rest of the team were right next door. They could probably talk through the wall, it was so thin. And she had no doubt she'd be safe with Face, as she watched him survey the room. Yeah, just fine. She breathed deeply. It was only for a few nights. She could manage. It wasn't as if they didn't get along. They did. In fact they got on better when the team weren't around.... if only they could get over this awkwardness between them. It felt like she was walking on eggshells, too frightened to talk for fear she'd give herself away. She needed to reinforce their friendship, as she certainly didn't want to lose that. If she couldn't have Face as her lover, she wanted his friendship. She didn't want to imagine life without the team, let alone Face.

She put her bag under the dressing table, with no intention of unpacking. Face dropped his bag by the closet, threw his cap on the bed and, removing his tie, started to undress. He sighed heavily.

"I'm sorry, Face," Amy said, not really sure where that was coming from. It was more the need to break the silence. "I know you don't want this." Amy could see him changing out the corner of her eye, so she sat at the dressing table, carefully removing her wig.

"Amy..." he said, making her glance over. He was slipping a T-shirt over his head. "It could just get dangerous."

"You don't have to be concerned about me... if that's what you're worried about."

"Of course I'm concerned about you. You can't handle one of Dawson's deputies the same way I can."

"I know what I've committed myself to. I know the risks."

"What if they use you to get to me?" he said, angrily.

"You won't let happen. Besides, like I said, I know the -"

"Amy!" He swept a hand through his hair, glaring at her, his expression stern, frustrated. "It's not about the – I just can't... If something were to... Oh, never mind." He picked up a newspaper and shook it out. Changed out of his uniform, he sat in the chair by the bed and started reading the paper, as if that was the end of the conversation.

Amy stared into the mirror, silently brushing her hair. What did he mean? Was he worried about something happening to her? Would he blame himself if something did? Deciphering what Face meant sometimes exhausted her. She decided to write up some of notes on this story so far, or at least try to concentrate on it.

Eventually, sick of the silence, Amy put her pen down and turned. "Face, is everything alright?" Why she was doing this, God only knew. Face was only going to give out the information that suited him. Would she actually know if he was being honest?

He looked up from his paper. "Hmmm?"

"Are you okay?" She shrugged as she hesitantly spoke. "You know - with me?" Face frowned. "Are you still mad at me about San Diego?"

"No. No, of course not." He put the paper down. "It's in the past. And besides I wasn't mad at you... really."

"Yes, you were!"

He leaned forward, rubbing his face and breathed deeply. He glanced at her then looked away. He looked tired. "Hannibal said we should have an early night."

Amy closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. Like she expected – he wasn't opening up, which frustrated her.

Hunched over the dressing table so long had made her back and shoulders ache. She stretched and, grabbing her wash things, headed wearily towards the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, makeup removed and changed into her faithful cotton pyjamas, she emerged from the bathroom and stood by the bed, hands on her hips.

"So, are we tossing a coin to who gets the bed?" she asked. She wanted to feel like an equal, and not get special privileges just because she was a woman on the team. She certainly didn't like assuming she should take the bed, either.

"Yeah. Heads you get the bed, tails you don't." Face pulled a coin out of his pocket and flipped it, then held out his palm, grinning. "Would you look at that? It's heads. You got the bed." Amy frowned. "I'm not letting you sleep in the chair. For one, can you imagine the flack I'd get tomorrow?"

Amy smirked, then sobered. "How about tonight I take the bed, tomorrow I have the chair?"

Face shook his head. "I'll be fine. I don't need the bed. Take it."

"But... uh... isn't it more important that you get a good night's sleep?" She stumbled to find a decent excuse.

"I've slept in worse." Face grabbed his wash things and walked off into the bathroom. Amy hesitantly got into bed, turning on the bedside lamp. She felt far from comfortable. She sat, pillows supporting her, hugging her knees beneath the covers and waited.

Face came out of the bathroom, turning the lights off, so that only a bedside lamp lit the room. He went to the closet and swore under his breath. He couldn't get to the blanket that was on the top shelf of the cabinet – well, not without disturbing the camera, which BA would have set up precisely.

Amy bit her lip. "You know.... we uh... we've shared a bed before. No reason why we can't share this one." What the hell was she suggesting?

"It was a much larger bed!"

Amy looked at the bed. Admittedly this bed wasn't a super king. But it hadn't been a very big bed on the cruise liner coming back from Ecuador. They'd never really spoken about that night, even though they'd shared a bed since. That night Amy hadn't even been wearing pyjamas when Face had surprised her, knocking on her bedroom door. She'd had to wrap herself in a bed sheet, naked beneath it, with Face's body so tortuously close to hers.

Maybe this was a bad idea, the two of them sharing a bed again. It wouldn't help her feelings towards Face, her emotions were already fighting their way back to the surface. She had to stop thinking about Face in any other way than a friend. Damn it - look at him as a colleague.

But she couldn't. She already wanted him to share this bed. They didn't have to do anything in it. She just wanted the feeling of him sleeping beside her. Knowing he was there. The past few weeks she'd not gone to bed until physically exhausted and she could fight sleep no longer.... Because the same nightmare would return. Max hovering over her, the smell of his stale breath, her struggle as the needle stung her arm.

Maybe with Face there, the dream wouldn't return.

"Does it matter how big it is? We're only sleeping... Just friends, right?"

Face stood the other side of the bed, hands on his hips. "Are you sure?"

Hesitantly, she nodded, ignoring the alarm bells going off inside her head, and he pulled the sheets back.

"We're supposed to be newlyweds. At least if Dawson walked in now, he'd believe it," she said. That was her argument, and she was sticking to it.

"Newlyweds do a lot more than just sleep in bed," Face replied. A smile crept over his face. She nervously clicked her tongue, trying to hide her blushing, and struggling to remove the image he'd just placed inside her head. Tucking herself down beneath the covers, she rolled over onto her side, her back towards him. She frowned as she noticed the closet door ajar, and inside it the camera, barely visible.

"Uh... Face?" Amy turned to look at Face. He was just about to turn off the lamp beside him. "Is that camera on?"

He looked past her shoulder, squinting through the dull light. "Yes, I think so."

"Should we turn it off?"

"Why, you thinking of seducing me?" But Amy scowled, remaining deadly serious. Face sighed. "We've got to leave it on... in case," he said, pulling the sheets around him.

Face reached over and turned off his lamp, while Amy turned onto her side. She felt movement within the sheets as Face got comfortable.

She turned onto her back, conscious he'd think she was fidgeting. Sighing, she closed her eyes. How she would love to seduce him, but would it be worth it? She wanted so much more than just one night with Face. She didn't want to be just another notch on his bedpost. Amy pulled at the covers, and he playfully tugged them back, pulling her closer to him. Amy giggled and he chuckled. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, knowing she needed to sleep. A long day was ahead of them.

"Good night," she whispered, feeling the invisible wall was slowly coming down between them.

"Amy?"

"Yes."

"Tomorrow, maybe it's just best to tell the guys I slept in the chair. Okay?"

"But the camera-"

"I'll rewind the tape in the morning," Face replied. "Providing Dawson doesn't show up."

"Oh," she said, frowning, opening her eyes, staring into darkness. "Okay." She wanted to ask why... why it would matter.

Was there another reason why that camera was there?

Then it dawned on her. This was a test. Hannibal had set a test. He knows. He knows something's going on. He had to, with everything that went on in San Diego – Face's reaction to Max....

Had Hannibal forced the two of them together to see if she'd react? Did Face know this?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Okay, Mr and Mrs Morgan, if you could just stand a little closer..." Hannibal moved Face and Amy closer together, then stood back, grinning. "That's it. Great," Hannibal yelled, as Ted snapped a picture. Face's cheeks ached from smiling all day. He imagined Amy felt the same, yet not once did she complain - he wondered if that was a little unusual, a sign of her tension. She just kept smiling and doing as she was told.

Yesterday had been tense. Face had been nervous around Amy, and she'd been similar. Like they were both walking on eggshells around each other. This was the first time they'd been together since San Diego. _Pushed together_. For a man who could talk his way through almost anything, he found it hard to know what to say to Amy. Today he didn't want either of them to feel like that. He'd done some thinking this morning. He didn't spend nearly enough time with Amy as he liked. Case or no case, he was going to make the most of being with her. Maybe they'd get an opportunity to smooth a few things out.

But under this film director charade, Hannibal had a camera on Face and Amy the whole day and it was proving difficult. He wasn't nervous, exactly; he just wanted to relax around her a little. Standing by her side, talking to his public, he was conscious that Hannibal was watching, albeit through a camera lens, and he found it harder to be himself around her. Okay, so he was supposed to be Joe Morgan, but he'd take Amy's hand and would worry what Hannibal was reading into it.

Why was this con any different from the rest?

Usually no one would think anything of it. But Face's feelings towards her had changed. Now Face was paranoid that his every move would be second-guessed, assuming he had ulterior motive. Which he didn't. Not really. Well, not the way they'd think.

Oh, to hell with it. Let Hannibal read into it what he likes. He'd put them in this position. Hannibal, of all people, should appreciate good acting.

"Okay, Murdock, get that shot right there," Hannibal said, directing Murdock and BA as Face shook someone else's hand.

"Yes, it's great to be back in my home town," Face said, for what felt like the hundredth time today.

It was a large town, so the team had split it into sectors, targeting one a day. Murdock and BA had been out earlier this morning, campaigning, and distributing flyers and posters. Once they were done, Face and Amy, with their 'film crew' and Ted, had ended up at a church, on the heels of Dawson's own campaign. Through Ted, Amy had done a lot of the groundwork and made appointments before they'd even set foot in Parkland. Face just needed to turn up, meet and greet the people, and convince them he was the man for the job.

The team wouldn't hit the casino yet. Hannibal wanted to make the campaign strong, to get right under Dawson's skin. The bootleg whiskey wasn't due for a few days either, so the team had to sit tight for that.

"Do you plan to start a family?" someone asked from the small crowd gathering around them.

"Uh, yes, yes. Amy wants a large family." Face watched nervously as a man lead Amy away, talking as he pointed and gestured around the building. Face could hear Hannibal giving his 'crew' more film directions over the noise and bustle of the crowd.

"Excuse me for a moment," Face said, and hurried after Amy. He didn't want to let her out of his sight. He didn't need Dawson using her against him, so that gave him a good enough excuse not to leave her side. He slipped his hand into hers, secretly enjoying how that felt.

"Where you off to, honey?" Face asked as innocently as he could, eyeing the man she was with. He looked safe enough; a frail man with thinning hair, probably in his 70s, smartly dressed for church. Didn't mean anything though.

"Oh, Mr Wilson was going to show me the gardens."

"We created a memorial garden," Mr Wilson said. "Would you like to see it, too?"

"Yes. Yes, I'd love to," he said, smiling. Face squeezed her hand affectionately. "I could do with a walk."

Amy smiled, and Mr Wilson nodded as they both followed him. Face glanced over his shoulder and gave Hannibal a nod that he'd be back soon.

Face was still pissed at Hannibal for suggesting _this_. Oh, he knew why Hannibal was doing it. But Face didn't like the idea of Amy being put on the firing line. He couldn't go through anything like San Diego again. The image of her lying on that bed, dishevelled and unconscious, and not knowing if Max had hurt her.... If anything were to happen to Amy again... He nearly killed Max, so he had to make sure nothing, absolutely nothing touched her. He couldn't afford to lose it like that again.

After twenty minutes of being shown around the small garden memorial, and making polite conversation with Mr Wilson and a small crowd that had joined them, Amy and Face wandered back to the team. Mr Wilson had seemed harmless enough. Face wondered if he'd been overreacting. Yet, it paid to take precautions. The man certainly didn't have the strength to defend himself, or Amy, if Dawson had chosen to kidnap her.

He must be getting paranoid. This was day one. Dawson really wouldn't be that agitated yet by Face's presence. But give it a couple more days...

"Okay, time we call it a day," Hannibal said, walking over to help clear up their campaign materials. Murdock dismantled the tripod as BA helped with the film equipment, loading it back into the van. "We'll grab a bite to eat, then head back to the hotel."

"Good, because my feet are killing me," Amy said, taking her shoe off and rubbing her foot. She winced as she put her shoe back on.

Conscious there was still a small audience as people meandered around, Face rested his hand on Amy's shoulder. She seemed to be getting used to his little touches now. At the beginning of the day, he'd felt her tense every time he touched her. Now she seemed relaxed, even leaning into his body as he moved his hand around her waist. _Amazing how natural that felt. _

"Should we eat at a separate table?" Face asked Hannibal. "We don't want Dawson getting too suspicious about the crew tagging along with me."

Hannibal nodded. "Yeah, good idea, but I don't want to leave you without back up."

They found a diner close to the hotel. It was quiet with only a few patrons, just how the team liked it.

"Long day, huh?" Face said, smiling at Amy as she picked up a menu. They were in a booth by the window, while the rest of the team had been seated a few tables away. The waitress brought over two cups of coffee and set them down. Face nodded his thanks, and the waitress, giving him a puzzled look, walked away.

"I'd say. It's alright for you guys; I had to endure these shoes."

Face chuckled. "Well, you did great today."

"Thanks. I don't think I've run a con this long with you before."

"No, this is the first."

"Yeah, usually it's just to get some supplies, or a truck. But keeping up this act, it's a little... intense, don't you think?"

Before Face could answer, the waitress returned and took their order.

About to walk away, the waitress stopped. "Hey, don't I know you?" Face had noticed how much she'd been looking at him, and observed her whispering with another waitress over by the counter. The two young women hadn't been subtle. He hoped for all the right reasons. "Are you the guy whose picture is plastered all over town?" Face grinned. The campaign was working.

"Yes, that's me," Face said. "Joe Morgan. I hope I've got your vote." He held out his hand and the waitress hesitantly shook it. She giggled, and Face caught Amy rolling her eyes. Well, the waitress was young, pretty. He had that effect – especially in a sharp suit.

"Oh, yeah. Better than that waste of space that calls himself Sheriff. So yeah, you have my vote." She smiled back. "I'll go put your order through, Mr Morgan."

Amy smirked at Face as the waitress walked away. "Well, that's one vote for you."

Face smiled, straightening his tie. "Of course. I'm running a good campaign."

"I think it's more to do with not resisting a handsome man." Amy sipped her coffee, unable to look him in the eye.

Face frowned, not sure how to take her blunt tone. "Whereas you?"

"I'd be looking at your campaign, of course." Her eyes narrowed just briefly, then she turned, staring at Hannibal's table.

"Amy?"

She turned. "Oh, sorry. Just feels weird. Ted's the one getting the story."

"He'll give you the story," Face said, frowning, realising he'd sounded a little short with her. She was always thinking about her work. But her editor expected to see something after the time she'd been gone, and Face needed to remember that.

"Yeah, I know. I know." Amy sighed. Her forehead creased, and she chewed her lip.

"What's on your mind?"

Amy shook her head. "Oh, nothing. I was trying to think if I'd I played your wife before."

"Uh.... Yeah, yeah. That time in Vegas – we were on our anniversary."

"Oh yeah." She chuckled, probably remembering how he'd carried her over the threshold, moaning she was breaking his back. She hadn't been, of course, but he'd liked giving her a hard time. Back then she'd just been the kid reporter to him; now she was... "Was there any other time?" she asked, after sipping her coffee.

"Hmmm... No, no. I think I usually stick with the brother-sister scam."

The waitress arrived with their food, silencing them both. Face didn't feel uncomfortable, yet there was a part of him dying to just talk to her. About anything. But he was ravenous from a hard day's work, and she would be too, so he let Amy eat her meal. It surprised him when Amy broke their silence.

"Face?" Face looked her in the eye, and she continued. "I'm sorry about how I left it after San Diego. At Maggie's. I was going to call you... to apologise, but I just got so busy at work and one thing lead to another..."

Damn, he had missed her. Returning from San Diego, he'd left her to her work, assuming that's what she wanted. He needed the space, too, trying to get his thoughts in check. But he'd failed miserably - she'd never been out of his mind. For the last few weeks, he dated one woman after another, but they hadn't blocked Amy out. When she called about this case, he couldn't help her fast enough, never expecting they'd be thrown together like this.

"Like I said last night, nothing to apologise for. I was probably over-reacting. You had a story to write."

"Okay, just so we're clear on that. I was grateful for... uh... you know, what you did." Amy looked down at her plate, staring at it. She pushed it away, unfinished.

"Was the meal alright?" Face asked, concerned. He took her hand.

"Yeah, yeah. There was a lot there." She went to take her hand away, so he locked his fingers through hers and gave her hand a squeeze. Face stared at her but she didn't look him in the eye.

"Amy?"

Something troubled Amy; he'd seen a hint of it. Amy stared at their hands interlocked, then looked up at him, about to speak. Face wasn't grateful that the waitress arrived back at the table to clear their plates.

"Would you like to see our dessert menu?"

Face swallowed, controlling the urge to tell the waitress to take a hike, instead he shook his head. "No, I'll just have another coffee. Amy, you?"

"Coffee will be fine, thank you." Amy took her hand away and played with the napkin on her lap. There was a silence as they both sipped the coffee. Face carefully watched Amy. Her expression had turned glum. Had the thought of Max changed her mood? Did Max still haunt her? Face wanted to change the subject, see her smile. Anything.

"You know, I probably don't know enough about my wife," Face said. He smiled as Amy looked up, a little startled, catching his eye.

She frowned. "Well, I'm letting you do the talking and I'm just playing along. I'm not so good at lying."

"You know, the trick is to keep it close to the truth. Give it a try."

"Uh..." Face could see the concentration in Amy's expression.

He nodded encouragingly. "Think about it as an actor, how you'd play the part. Sometimes the background stuff doesn't get revealed to the audience, but it's what makes the character act the way they do. Say, that character's family, for instance, their upbringing... A good actor draws on their own life experiences."

"You sound like Hannibal." She had her guard up.

"Yeah, I do." Face chuckled. She eyed him suspiciously, a look he knew too well from Amy. Another thing he liked about her was that she knew him. Well, almost. She knew him better than all the women he'd slept with the past few weeks put together. A part of him wanted her to get to know him more - the part of his head that needed examining.

The part that was working sensibly was telling him to keep his distance. Wide berth.

_Fat chance. _

"Face?"

"Go on." Face noticed the hesitancy in her voice, and grinned. "What's there to know about Mrs Joe Morgan?"

"Okay... Uh, let's say... I... Mrs Morgan has three older brothers."

"Three!" Face put his cup down. He stared at Amy. "I thought you only had one."

"Yes, I've only got one." Amy giggled. "But you told me to pretend."

"Oh... For a minute there I thought we needed to take better care of you. I pictured the Allen brothers coming to protect their little sister."

Amy shook her head. "No, the team is safe." She laughed.

Face nodded. He continued to drill her with silly questions and she answered, reluctantly. He could see she was dubious about it all, yet he encouraged her and she played his game.

"What's your favourite flower?"

"Is this real or pretend?" She sounded hesitant. He knew she didn't quite trusted him - ever since Arizona when he talked her into painting those railroad tracks with that tar.

"Both."

"Uh..." She chewed her lip for a moment. "Roses. Who doesn't like roses?"

"Colour?"

"What? The roses or generally?"

Face shrugged. "Both."

Giggling, Amy shook her head and put her empty coffee cup down. "Face, what is this about?"

"Just getting you to think on your feet."

"No, really. What's this about?"

"Amy, the small details are important in developing your character for a con."

"Oh..." Amy frowned. She still eyed him suspiciously. "In that case the pinkie-orange colour."

"You mean peach?"

"No. It's like they're a soft orange, with pink edges to the petals." She playfully slapped his shoulder with the back of her hand. "Oh, never mind. You're pulling my leg now, aren't you?"

Face grinned. "Might be. Anyway, time to go. The team's on the move. I'll go pay the bill." Face went up to the counter, a smile on his face. He'd found that cheerful disposition in her he enjoyed so much.

The beauty of this con was he could be close to Amy and no one could argue that it was anything other than for the purpose of the scam. The two of them could share some time together. He had to look close - as her husband. And he needed to make light conversation, of course. Behind closed doors, well, they couldn't see if Amy and Face remained closer than usual. Face could control himself. He wasn't going to do anything stupid. Even Amy didn't need to know what he was up to. Just trying to forget about Amy had obviously not worked, so trying to get to know her a little better – what was the harm in that?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Amy walked into the hotel room, sighing with relief as she slipped off her shoes.

Another day over. How many more to endure?

Face closed the door behind them and threw the room key on the dressing table. He headed for the bathroom first, leaving Amy to pick the pins out of her hair and remove her wig.

The first couple of days in Parkland had been uneventful, just the team campaigning. Amy and Face paraded around, visiting places, getting Joe Morgan's face seen around the town while the team followed, acting as a film crew.

They all got the subtle vibe that they were getting on Dawson's nerves. As fast as Face's picture went up in a store, one of Dawson's deputies took it down. Luckily Amy had made sure plenty of flyers had been printed. Soon, Amy thought, Hannibal is going to strike Dawson where it hurts.

Amy and Face shared their room, and to her surprise, actually lived comfortably together in such a small space. Although, that had happened seven months ago when they'd shared a room in New York, attending a family wedding. He'd joined her to pose as her boyfriend, and had done so brilliantly. It was where this whole thing with Face had started for Amy. That room had been larger, more luxurious, but it had been the one place they were able to relax, not put on a show for the rest of the world. She never imagined she'd be doing it again... but this time for a different kind of con.

She noticed that when Face didn't have to put on an act in front of the team, he relaxed around her. She saw a hint of the real Face. He was kind, considerate, and always neat, hanging up his clothes immediately; the bathroom was left as if he'd never been in there – just like before. She liked it. Too much. They were becoming comfortable with one another again, sharing jokes and laughing. She tried to remind herself why they'd needed that distance... But those few weeks apart after San Diego appeared futile now.

They were both now sitting up in bed, pillows propped behind them. Face read the newspaper while Amy wrote up her notes from the day's events in her journal. It bothered her a little that she couldn't do this during the day, but Ted was the reporter, and Amy had to play wife. She chuckled to herself, louder than intended.

"What?" Face looked at her, dropping his paper. He wore a light grey T-shirt, which she knew he'd take off when he settled down to sleep.

"I was thinking if Dawson walked in now, he'd think we're more like an old married couple instead of newlyweds."

He smiled and went back to his paper. She put her journal down, and picked up a book, glancing at her watch that lay beside it on the bedside cabinet.

"Damn, is that the time? Hannibal will have us up early tomorrow. We better get some sleep."

"Uh, huh." Face continued to read his newspaper.

"Maybe just one chapter." Amy flicked open the book to her page, then looked at Face, still engrossed in the news. He looked so serious, concentrating, taking no notice of her. She chewed her lip, to stop herself smiling. She'd seen Murdock do this, usually while travelling in the back of the van, boredom taking over, so what would he do if she did it? She poked the paper, making it rattle. He looked up, frowning, then went back to reading.

That wasn't the reaction Murdock got.

Giving up, realising how silly she was being, she started to read her book. Two paragraphs in, Face nudged her elbow and she lost her place. She didn't react immediately, waiting a moment before poking his paper again, giggling. He nudged her back. She dropped the book, grabbed a pillow and swung it around, hitting Face.

"Fine," he said, grabbing his own pillow, swinging. She giggled and he laughed. She grabbed his pillow and threw it aside, so he wrestled with her as she sunk down into the bed. She was laughing so hard, she had tears in her eyes.

Simultaneously they froze in position. Face straddled over her, nothing but the sheets between them. He stared at her, their faces inches apart. She held her breath. He leaned in, lips parted. She quickly placed her hand to his chest.

"Face, no," she whispered, heart in her throat, surprised she'd managed to say anything.

He raised her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers. He moved back over to his side of the bed, turned off his lamp and pulled the sheets up around him. She reached out and turned her own lamp off. Darkness enveloped them.

"Good night, Amy."

"Good night, Face."

_What the hell just happened? _

* * *

XXXXXXX

Early the next morning, Amy stood with Face in Veterans Park. BA and Murdock were driving around the town, campaigning. And it was busy, so they must have been doing something right. Hannibal floated amongst the people that gathered. Crowd control, he had called it. Ted also meandered, taking notes.

When she'd awoken, she'd heard the shower running. Face wasn't in the bed beside her – again. There had to be a reason why he did that. He always did it. Did he think it would be awkward to wake up next to one another? They'd both quickly dressed, trying not to get in one another's way and had been ready when Hannibal knocked on the door. Neither of them had mentioned the night before.

Now, on display as Joe Morgan's wife, she played her part. It was hard to bury any feelings she had for Face, when she had to act so lovingly towards him. Well, she was laying it on thicker than maybe she'd do in reality. She found herself imagining what Face would look for in a wife, and just as quickly chastised herself for thinking like that.

She observed Face, impressed because, as usual, he was a natural. He had the public eating out of his hand. She loved his ability to make people believe in him. She believed in him. If Face didn't win this election she'd be surprised - or know that Dawson had too many people paid off or too afraid to vote for anyone but him.

This pretending to be his wife was fine while the rest of the team weren't about. But her nerves were on edge if they were watching. Paranoid that they'd think something really was going on between her and Face – which it wasn't. Well, it was, but only inside her head. She pushed aside what had happened last night. Maybe Face had forgotten who he was with for a moment....

"Hey, can we have a picture of you and your pretty wife, Mr Morgan?" a reporter said. Face stood, looking handsome in a black three-piece suit, close to Amy's side. "And how about a newlywed kiss?"

"Uh..." Amy nervously frowned, but quickly smiled as she heard Face agree.

Face placed his lips on Amy's and then quickly withdrew. Just like they'd done all the other times, though usually he'd kissed her on the cheek. This was the first time they'd been asked to kiss for the camera, after all.

"Um... Is that it? I was hoping for a little more," the reporter said, disgruntled. "I barely had time to take a photo."

Amy caught Face's brief scowl.

"Oh, sure," Face said. Before Amy could protest, his arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer. Face looked into her eyes, tilting his head, parting his lips, and kissed her. She closed her eyes as their lips met. Face tightened his hold, pressing their bodies against one another. The camera clicked and Amy expected Face to pull away, but instead, the kiss deepened, for a moment, his tongue softly finding hers. _Boy, he knew how to kiss._ She opened her eyes, pulling away from him, gently pushing with her hands, but he held her firm, smiling at her - the kind of smile that said play along.

Before anything could be said between them, more people were asking about the married couple, where Joe had been all this time. The same questions, just different people. Face, keeping one hand on Amy's hip, naturally continued answering the enquiries to his campaign, like what he'd done was perfectly normal.

And it was - for a newlywed couple.

Flustered, Amy glanced around. Hannibal was deep in conversation with some men. There was quite a crowd around Face and Amy. Had Hannibal noticed? If he had, how would they explain what had just happened? Would Hannibal believe it was all part of the act?

Was it part of the act?

Of course it was. Face couldn't possibly have feelings for her – at least not as strong as her fondness for him. He rarely showed emotions for any of his girlfriends. Why would Amy be any different? Besides, she wasn't his type. She'd been trying to tell herself that for the last couple of weeks – to save her the heartache. She'd repeated it over and over again in her head last night, like a mantra.

Face cared for her as a friend. A close friend. Was that all?

But had last night's brief encounter made Face think he could take advantage?

As the morning passed, she grew more annoyed. She was angry at herself for enjoying these tender moments, but furious that he'd just kissed her without giving some warning. Especially after last night when she'd told him no. But Face had assumed she'd just play along – which she had, because she had no choice. Was he just toying with her emotions, reading her like a book? No, Face wouldn't be cruel.

But was she being so obvious? And what would it mean if Hannibal did find out? Hannibal had put them together because he trusted them. Or was Hannibal really testing her? Had Hannibal read between the lines of the tension building between Face and Amy in San Diego? But newlyweds had to kiss – didn't they? Face had just taken it a little too far.

Maybe Hannibal read her reactions to Face like a book, too. She _was_ being obvious. Damn it. That's why Hannibal was testing her. Pushing her towards Face until she did something stupid, reacting to Face's ways.

_But it was Face. He'd kissed her!_

She continued acting the dutiful wife. But Face wasn't going to get away with that little act. If she ended up having to confront Hannibal, then Face was going to take some of the heat, too. She'd bide her time until they got back to the hotel and were alone. Then they'd talk.

* * *

XXXXXXX

By the time Amy, Face and Hannibal were picked up from the park, she'd psyched herself up to confront Face. She sat quietly, listening to the team. Murdock was winding BA up with his invisible harmonica. Hannibal teased Face about how Dawson was going to want him more than dead by the time Hannibal had finished. She was relieved when BA drove the van into the hotel's parking lot.

"I think that was another successful morning," Hannibal said, discarding his cigar as the five of them walked towards the hotel. Face glanced around, taking Amy's hand, giving her the 'you never know who's watching' look. As if not noticing Face and Amy's closeness, Hannibal continued, "Okay, let's freshen up and go hit Dawson's casino. I think it's time." Hannibal grinned. "Amy, call Baker - he can come, too."

"Can't I come instead?"

"No!" Face answered before Hannibal, his hand tightening around hers. Amy scowled, pulling her hand away. "I mean, you're supposed to be my wife, you know. You can't be seen as a reporter. Right, Hannibal?" The two men exchanged a glance.

She watched Hannibal with anticipation, and her heart sank when she saw him nod. "He's right, kid."

Face placed his arm around her waist as they headed for their room. It made her bristle. _Here comes the sweet talk. _ "Besides, I've already arranged for you to pay a visit to the local hospital."

"You have? When?"

"Don't take long, Face," Hannibal called, as he continued along to his room with BA and Murdock.

Face let go of her hand as they entered their room. The maid had been in because the bed was neatly made and the trash had been emptied.

"Looks like we didn't get any visitors," Face said, surveying the room. He turned off the camera, rewinding the tape. He played parts of it through to ensure that nobody had entered the room. Amy checked her makeup in the mirror, then slumped into the chair. There was little point in her getting changed if she needed to remain in character.

She watched Face; her eyes drawn to him. He took off his jacket, then his tie, throwing them on to the bed and pulled a clean shirt out of the closet. As he turned he caught her eye.

"I want you to stay in public places, okay?" Face said, undoing his shirt. Amy wondered if she should look away; she tried to focus on his eyes. Look at his face. "Stick with the crowds of people. None of this going to help someone you think might have a great story, okay?"

Amy's hackles rose. Damn it, why'd he bring that up?

"You want me out of the way, don't you?"

"I want you to be safe. Dawson might try something; use you to get to me. He thinks you're my wife, remember?"

"Oh, I remember." Amy was on her feet, striding towards him. "And while we're here, on this discussion about me being your wife, Face. What the hell was that about in the park?"

"You know what it was about. They wanted a kiss, we gave them a kiss."

"It was more than I was expecting!"

He smirked. "Yeah, I thought you were a little frosty -"

"Frosty!" Amy glared. She felt like slapping him. He didn't understand. Once the camera had clicked he should have pulled away, but he hadn't.

Exhaling, she turned, ready to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back around. Their eyes locked, their bodies touched. He kissed her, passion filled, his tongue once again searching for hers. For a moment she relaxed against him, consumed by his kiss, feeding her hunger for him. She ran her hands over his naked chest and up around his neck. His hands travelled up her back, pressing her body against his.

Then, he gently removed her hands from around his neck, releasing himself from her hold.

"Now, that was much better," he said, smiling.

"We shouldn't be doing this!" she said, stepping away from Face. Amy turned her back on him, trying to hide her flushed face, and any emotion that she might be revealing. She had to get a grip. "I'm not enjoying this."

"It felt like you were enjoying -"

"Face! This can't happen. It's not supposed to happen, damn it!" she said. Her fists clenched. She wanted to bang them against his chest but restrained herself. "I'll get kicked off the team! Hannibal trusts us, and well, if he's testing me – I've failed."

"He's not testing you."

"What?"

"He's not testing you," Face said, pulling a shirt from the closet and removing it from its hanger. "He's testing me."

"I'm not sure I can take this." She scowled then ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

XXXXXXX

Shit, he really was screwing this up royally. Hannibal was testing him, he knew it. Forcing them together to see what would happen. And Face was failing, fast.

Just all these little things they were doing – pretending – felt so good. And right... yet so very wrong. Was this fair on Amy if he acted more and more on how he felt?

But these past few days, their nice little bit of alone time... He didn't think this would hurt. He thought he could control his feelings.

He'd even considered just having sex with her. Getting it out of the way. He wondered if that would improve things. They'd both get over it and move on. But he knew that wouldn't happen. Amy meant more to him than his usual casual fling. He wanted more.

He dressed quickly, hanging up the clothes he'd been wearing. He wasn't supposed to be involved in the fight, but knowing how things could get with the team, if he was going to be in the middle of it, he didn't need to wreck one of his favourite suits. Amy still hadn't appeared. He walked to the bathroom, slipping on his light brown jacket.

"Amy... I'm off now. Remember you need to be at the hospital. Don't stay here, will you?"

The bathroom door opened. She stood in the gap, still holding the door as if providing a safety barrier between them. She looked unhappy, which made him feel worse. He never wanted to hurt her.

"What time do I need to be there?"

"One o'clock," he said.

"Face?"

"Yeah." He looked her in the eye.

"We need to talk about this," she said softly.

"Look, I'm sorry. We'll talk about this later. I promise."

"It doesn't matter who he's testing, Face. Just remember, it will be me that has to leave." He could see her trying to hold back tears. He didn't ask her if that would be a bad thing. Now was not the time.

"Amy, it'll be fine. The last thing I wanted to do was upset you."

She nodded. "Okay, now go. Hannibal will wonder where the hell you are otherwise. We don't need him getting suspicious."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

From the safety of the bathroom, Amy watched Face leave. Which was ridiculous because she wasn't going to do anything stupid, like throw herself at him. Somehow she needed to focus and attend this appointment. She'd do it to prove she could and that she was a reliable member of this team.

Amy's visit to the hospital was shorter than anticipated. There would have been some human interest angle she could have worked into a story, but she had just played her necessary part as Mrs Joe Morgan. Unfortunately, as a reporter, she knew exactly where the action was – at Danny's Satellite Lounge. At least Face would be pleased she'd stayed out of trouble.

Afterwards, she headed back to the hotel room and finding it empty, decided to take a bath. Relieved to be rid of the blonde wig, she sank into the warm water, bubbles sizzling around her as she tried to relax. She closed her eyes, taking in deep relaxing breaths. With everything that had gone on that day, her thoughts racing around in circles, she felt exhausted.

If Hannibal was testing Face, it meant he had to be testing her, too. What if maybe, just maybe, she did... with Face, would it get him out of her system? She was obviously physically attracted to him.... She couldn't help admitting that she was intrigued, having the impression that he'd be good. Very good, if the way he kissed her this morning was anything to go by. Maybe if they just had sex, the two of them could go back to being.... normal.

She sighed heavily. She felt more for Face than just physical attraction. Some of the women he dated probably used him just as much as he used them. For all the women that may hang on his arm, did he love any of them? And did they love him? That was something she wanted to give him, and she'd like to receive, so one night wouldn't be enough for her.

Even now, with everything that had gone on, all the clues, she still couldn't believe Face felt the same way, too. Comparing herself with the bombshells he usually had on his arm, she'd assumed it highly unlikely. Was she being delusional? But the kiss....

She needed to dump these stupid ideas that whirled around her head. Whether he felt the same or not, could it really work?

The hotel door slammed shut. She froze. Was it one of Dawson's deputies? Damn, she should have brought a gun into the bathroom.

"Amy?" She breathed with relief at the sound of Face's voice. "Amy, are you back yet?"

The bathroom door handle turned. "I'm in the bath!" she said, sinking as low as she could, hoping the bubbles covered her modesty.

"Oh, damn! Sorry." Face back-peddled out of the bathroom as fast as he'd entered, closing the door.

Amy cursed under her breath. What a way to find out the bathroom lock didn't work. She stepped out of the bath, quickly wrapping the large bath towel around her. She covered her hair up in a smaller one, then, taking a deep breath, walked out of the bathroom.

"Uh, um..." Face coughed. "Hannibal wants us to go out to dinner. You know, be seen more in public."

"You mean I've got to put that darn wig on again?"

"Afraid so."

"I don't even think I have something to wear for dinner."

"Sure you have."

Amy went over to the closet and pulled out what she considered a conservative red dress. "Will this do?" She held the dress up against her.

"Yeah, that'll be fine."

"Okay, well, you know, you're going to have to disappear or something."

"Oh, right. Yeah," Face said, heading for the bathroom. "I'll go clean up."

As soon as Face had disappeared into the bathroom, Amy hurried to get ready. She got the dress on, struggling with the zipper, determined not to ask Face for assistance. Standing in front of the long mirror by the dressing table, she checked herself over. The dress was certainly not the kind she'd choose to wear if Face was taking her out to dinner. Its look was conventional, old-fashioned even, not as slim fitted as she'd like, but it was first lady material, and that was what counted.

"Are you decent?" Face asked, opening the bathroom door. Now freshly-shaven, towelling his face, he stood bare-chested.

"Yes."

Face slung the towel over his shoulder and walked over to the closet.

Amy turned to face him. "How does it look?" As she asked, she glanced at herself in the mirror again, fiddling with the dress.

He looked her over, and smiled. "It's perfect." Face always was good at being convincing.

Amy sat at the dressing table, reapplying the make-up she'd removed in the bath, conscious that Face was getting dressed. As usual, impeccably dressed, she thought, observing him through the mirror as he put on his jacket. They both got ready in silence.

Face was ready before her, patiently sitting on the bed. Once her wig was in place, she stood from the dressing table. "I'm ready," she said, pulling at her clothing for one last preen. She walked over to Face, resisting the urge to touch him, brush his jacket or straighten his tie. It wasn't necessary; they weren't on display yet. And since their earlier kiss they were both on edge. Maybe he was too afraid to mention it, like she was, but they needed to talk about this at some point.

"Let's go get something to eat," he said.

Amy nodded. Earlier she hadn't fancied food, but now her stomach was telling her otherwise.

They took a cab to the restaurant, both silent while they travelled, and as the cab pulled up outside, Amy noticed BA's van parked close by. The rest of the team was already inside. Amy and Face were shown to their table, acknowledging the team.

"So, how did this afternoon go?" Amy asked once the waiter had taken their order.

"Fine. Not sure if I won any votes, but they weren't too impressed that the casino is rigged."

Amy smirked. "Subtle campaigning, huh? To get right under Dawson's nose."

"Something like that." Face adjusted his tie, glancing around the restaurant.

"Are you okay?" She wondered if Face was a little jittery about Dawson. Face could handle himself, but knowing someone could be out to kill you, still had to affect you.

"Oh, I'm just fine, looking over my shoulder wondering when Dawson will strike," Face replied, his tone laced with sarcasm. "As usual, it's my head inside the lion's mouth. You know, someone else might want to try it one day."

Amy chewed her lip, his anxiety rubbing off on her. He looked serious, his jaw tense. "Face, this was your idea after all."

"How was I supposed to know Hannibal was going to put me on the front line? I thought he'd be the one running for sheriff."

"But you have much more natural ability to be convincing."

"Hannibal's the actor, remember?" Amy chuckled, but Face's expression was still deadly serious. "Besides, I didn't envisage having you by my side. The last thing I want is you to get hurt."

Oh, this is what it's really about? Amy shook her head. "You really don't have to worry about me."

Face opened his mouth to argue, but fell back into character as a middle-aged couple passed the table, recognising Joe Morgan. His whole demeanour relaxed as he smiled, and shook their hands. Face's ability to turn on the charm proved why Hannibal had chosen him for this job. Amy placed her napkin on her lap as she admired Face's skill. He talked convincingly. Everything about him was believable. That's why she shouldn't fall for his small talk.

Once the couple had been seated at a table and Face and Amy were alone again, she spoke. "You have nothing to worry about. You can handle Dawson's men. Besides, Hannibal won't let him get that close."

"I hope you're right," Face said. She noticed his subtle glances continued around the restaurant.

The waiter soon returned to the table, pouring their wine. Face signalled the waiter by that he only wanted a small glass poured, so Amy did the same. It would not look good to be getting drunk. The appetisers arrived and she let Face be the perfect date – dreamily imagining it could be real, although she knew every act between them was calculated. Hannibal only sat a few tables away, watching.

Once the main course arrived, Amy decided they should talk about this morning's events. Face might act now like nothing had happened, but she, on the other hand, had a very good memory.

"Are we going to talk about earlier?" Amy asked, pushing her food around her plate. All of a sudden she'd lost her appetite again.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have treated you like that," Face replied, making her look up. "You deserve better."

She frowned. "Better?"

"You're a friend."

"Not the next notch on your bedpost then?"

"No! Absolutely not!" Face anxiously glanced around, smiling at some patrons close by that had looked over, then his expression sobered and his voice softened. "I just got carried away, stole the opportunity. Intrigued a little, maybe." The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was about to smile. "I thought I could use the excuse of us as newlyweds."

"Face, no one was watching us in our hotel room," Amy said, also keeping her voice low.

"It won't happen again." His stern expression relaxed to a gentle smile as the waiter came along to the table.

"Is everything alright with your meal, sir? Madam?" he asked, as he picked up the wine bottle that stood on their table and topped off their wine glasses. Again, Face kept his refill small.

"Yes, thank you," Amy replied. Face nodded, and the waiter smiled and walked to the next table.

"How is your meal?" Face asked.

"Fine." Like Face, she could hear someone at another table asking if that was Joe Morgan, the man whose picture was plastered all over town. Face gave Amy a subtle wink and they both fell back into their roles. This whole act dredged up memories for Amy, the times when Face had pretended to be Sam. But that hadn't been for a while now, not since Courtney's last visit. Amy realised how much she'd missed 'Sam' – even if it had been an act.

The rest of the evening was pleasurable, playing husband and wife; their conversation flowed, never feeling awkward, laughing at each other's jokes. The team had left half an hour ago, but Face had mentioned they would be waiting outside. The waiter cleared their plates and Face took hold of her hand, stroking it. His action seemed more intimate; maybe he'd been concerned about pretending this way, in front of the team. Hannibal might get the wrong idea.

They sat closer, leaning into one another, like two lovers oblivious to the world surrounding them, wrapped in their own little bubble. She could feel his warm breath on her face as they softly talked. Was it an act or had they naturally taken this pose. But they did have an audience. Amy could feel that eyes were upon them, though no one was staring. She only hoped they weren't Dawson's spies who could send trouble their way because Face had started to relax.

"I have taught you well," Face said, rubbing his thumb over the two rings Amy wore on her left hand. He looked at her, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes, they're my grandmother's." A gold band, too thick really for her slender fingers, and the engagement ring was an old-fashioned diamond-shaped cluster of emeralds.

"Small details are important for the con."

"I nearly forgot to pack them." Amy chuckled.

"I'm guessing you're really a diamond kind of girl." Face kissed her hand and released it. Amy blushed and tried to hide the tingle of excitement that it caused. She craved to feel those lips on hers. Quickly she pushed that thought to the back of her mind.

"Did you see my eyes bulge at the size of that diamond? You know, when we went to Zimbabwe to help that woman with her father's mine. Oh, what was her name?" Amy rubbed her fingers over her lips.

"Toby."

Amy felt a strange tinge of jealousy. Toby had paid no attention to Face, too caught up in her father's death and trying to get his mine working. Back then his flirting hadn't bothered Amy, even though it was the first job they'd taken since returning from the wedding in New York. For some reason she felt jealous now. And there was no need to be.

"I think we should leave," Face said, interrupting her thoughts. Amy nodded.

Amy stood up from the table and felt light-headed. She wobbled and Face caught her arm.

"Okay?" He frowned.

"Yeah, yeah. Probably just tired."

"Well, let's get back before Dawson strikes."

"What?" She placed her hand to her mouth, realising how loud she'd gotten. She lowered her voice as Face wrapped his arm around her waist and led her out of the restaurant. "He'd do it in public?"

"Dawson doesn't have to be the one getting his hands dirty; he's probably got all sorts of contacts."

They walked out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk. Face pulled Amy closer to his side.

"Damn, there seems to be a hell of a lot of patrol cars out this evening," Face said. Amy noticed it, too. They stepped back into the shadows. Face really was in danger. Dawson could easily try to kill him. Like Ted had said about the last candidate who'd gone missing, Dawson could grab Face, and make him disappear. A little accident.

"Come on, Hannibal," Face cursed under his breath.

Thankfully they didn't have to wait long, BA's van pulled up, screeching to a halt. Hannibal got out and the side door flew open revealing Murdock inside. Amy breathed with relief. She couldn't believe how stricken her mind had become with the thought of losing Face. What if she could only ever have one night with Face?

"Get in," Hannibal said, glancing around. "When we left, we saw how heavy the patrols were. I was ready to come in and escort you out. I think our little visit to the casino may have rattled Dawson." He grinned, but Face's expression lacked amusement.

It wasn't long before they were back at the hotel, walking up the stairs to their rooms. Everyone was cautious, looking over the shoulders.

"You two stay in your room; the three of us will take watch," Hannibal said. "I don't want to take the chance of Dawson making his move on you tonight. We have that bootleg whiskey to attend to, and it comes in tomorrow."

"Shouldn't I help you take watch?" Face asked.

"No, it's you Dawson wants. I don't want to give him the opportunity to take a shot at you." Face rolled his eyes in a resigned way. Amy swallowed. Hannibal patted him on the shoulder. "Don't look so worried, Face. We'll be right outside."

"Thanks for the reassurance, but I think I'll sleep with my gun under my pillow."

Face ushered Amy into the room.

"Do you think Dawson could strike tonight?" She pulled off the wig, hoping that would be its last outing, and placed it on the dressing table, then removed the pins out of her hair.

Face shrugged, walking over to the closet. "We really did get under his skin this afternoon."

"Wow, is this how all dinner dates with Templeton Peck turn out?" Amy said, heading over towards the bed. She smirked at him.

"No. I'd have taken you to a better restaurant."

"Well, admittedly I'd have worn a better dress, and not that damn wig."

"You still looked pretty." Face stroked her arm, keeping the eye contact. "Red suits you."

Amy laughed in disbelief. He really did know how to say the right thing, didn't he? She struggled for a moment, trying to reach the zipper. And wobbled, remembering she was still wearing her heels. She grabbed Face's arm to balance herself and he chuckled.

"It's not funny," she said, still struggling, even though she had kicked off her shoes, then giggled. "Please can you undo my zipper?" She turned so he could reach the back of the dress.

"Sure." She felt his gentle touch, sweeping her hair aside and his fingers down her back as he undid the zipper. The sensation excited her. She didn't want it to stop. The thought that he was barely inches away...

_Live like there is no tomorrow._

She turned, staring into his eyes, her arms across her chest holding the dress. Not even thinking it through, she just dropped her arms and the dress fell, revealing her black underwear. Face stared in surprise.

"Oh, boy." But he didn't move. Didn't back away.

She threw herself against him, and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck, combing her fingers up through his hair. He groaned his approval, responding by returning the kiss, his firm hands holding her. She fumbled with his tie, throwing it aside, then unbuttoning his shirt, wanting to feel his warm skin against hers. She didn't care. For this moment of weakness, she wanted to be just another notch on Face's bedpost. Just another of his conquests. She wanted to know what it felt like, held in his arms. Just for one night.

She wanted him – now.

She pulled his shirt open as much as she could, pressing her body on his. He held her tight, his lips firm against hers, his hands stroking her spine. She cherished the smell his cologne, the unique taste and feel of his tongue. She wanted all of him.

Together they moved, falling onto the bed, still locked together, kissing, Amy trying to hurry the removal of Face's clothes. She pulled Face down on top of her, wrapping her legs around him, their lips pressed together, both breathless. He was still fully dressed, except for the shoes he'd kicked off and his unbuttoned shirt. She could feel his erection through his slacks, pressed against her. He wanted her. Only thin material lay in their way.

Amy threw herself back onto the pillows, her heart pounding, pulling him back down on top of her. Her body was hot, deep in her belly, desiring only Face. Every inch of her tingled, excited, wanting, needing him.

But was this really how she wanted it with Face? One of the guys was possibly outside their door, keeping watch... so she'd have to restrain the passion, the love she so dearly wanted to express.

Yes, she loved him.

And what if he didn't love her? Did she really want to be just like all his other women? Used for a purpose, then discarded? Forgotten....

Or was she using him?

Would she regret this in the morning?

Her head started spinning.

* * *

XXXXXXX

Amy's frantic hands were at Face's fly. He pulled away to assist her, she followed, her lips searching his. As she eagerly, blindly, pushed at his slacks, he kicked them off. She wrapped her arms around his neck and persuading him back down. As Face fell, he caught his dishevelled image in the closet mirror; his shirt undone, pants removed and his tie lost somewhere. Amy's slender legs wrapped around him. And he saw the camera. He'd turned that off, hadn't he?

The warmth of her tongue, licking, teasing his nipple, the sensation made him groan involuntary, then her mouth came back to his.

What was he doing? He wanted this so much he ached. But was this really the way he wanted to spend his first, and probably last, night with Amy, half wondering if one of Dawson's men would come through that door, while they lay naked and entangled?

And then there was the team. Whoever was on watch might hear something.

He wanted to do this right. This wasn't the way he'd imagined them together. He'd wanted it to be special, not just some quick roll in the hay.

Maybe she didn't really want it... just thought she did... There could be regrets in the morning and he certainly didn't want that.

He broke from the kiss, moving down her neck, running his tongue along her collarbone, kisses down her navel, her stomach pulling in. She moaned as his tongue licked along the top of her underwear. His hands moved over the soft fabric and he looked her straight in the eye. She lifted her hips to aid the removal. _What the hell am I doing?_ Face stopped, snatching his hands back.

"We can't do this!" he said, quickly pulling away from her. He sat back and stared at her.

He didn't want just one night.

"Face?" She leaned on her elbows, her chest rising and falling, catching her breath. Face gulped down the air, and slowed his breathing. With all his determination, he fought not taking her in his arms once again.

He smiled, brushing her hair off her face. "I don't think this is a good idea."

She stared, then finally shook her head. "I think you might be right."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own the A-Team and I've not made a penny from this; I just do it for the jazz! (This chapter contains some dialogue from 'The White Ballot' episode)._

_

* * *

  
_

**Chapter 5**

"Amy.... Amy, wake up, honey."

Amy opened her eyes. Face stood over her, fully dressed. "What time is it?" she grumbled sleepily.

"Early," Face replied.

Realising she was only wearing her underwear, she pulled the sheets up higher around her, and quickly dropped her gaze. With a memory of the night before, embarrassment flushed through her. As she pulled at the sheets tighter, she wasn't sure it mattered if she covered up. Face had seen a lot of her last night. Oh, God, what had she done?

"Face, um, I'm sorry about last night." Their eyes met, but she looked away quickly. After they'd come to their senses, she'd slipped into bed and turned her back to him, feeling this was the safest way to keep control. Usually she would have been content being held by Face; thankfully, that thought had never entered her head. It would have fuelled her need for him again, and then they probably wouldn't have been able to stop. "Luckily, we, uh, stopped... in time."

He nodded. "Yes, we did."

"Thank God," she said. "Oh, I didn't mean it like that, but -"

"I know, I know," Face said. He pushed a loose strand of hair off her face, and gave her a reassuring smile, making her lose some of the embarrassment she felt. "We'll talk later, once we're back in LA, but now you've got to get up; we've got an early start. I let you sleep as long as I could but we're hitting that whiskey delivery this morning."

"Oh, right, yes."

She quickly washed and threw on some clothes. She didn't need to worry about the wig or anything; the plan didn't involve Mrs Joe Morgan. Possibly after today they could be going home. As she came out of the bathroom, brushing her hair, Face was turning the camera on. The bed was set up as if someone slept in it. She stopped in her tracks, holding her breath, her heart pounding for a moment.

"You rewound that, didn't you?"

He turned and grinned. "Of course. But don't worry; I turned it off last night."

"Face...." She hesitantly placed her hand on his chest. "Be careful today," she stared down, still unable to look him in the eye as she spoke. "I'm worried that Dawson might...."

"I'm always careful." With gentle fingers, he lifted her chin and winked at her, making her smile.

He ushered her out of the room to find the rest of the team ready. The plan was that Hannibal would stay behind to watch the hotel rooms. He hoped to round up Dawson and bring him to the team.

In the van she didn't talk much. Murdock, sitting in the front, turned and frowned.

"You okay, chica?"

"Just hungry."

Murdock chuckled. "Hannibal will bring some food with him. That'll fix you up."

Amy nodded, although she wasn't sure food was going to cure the other craving she had. She glanced at Face, and he caught her eye, giving her a faint smile. It reassured her that he wasn't embarrassed. It wasn't awkward between them. He was still her friend.

BA brought the van to a stop outside of town. As the guys checked the rifles and talked amongst themselves, Amy stayed in the van and closed her eyes. She had so many questions about last night that she wanted to discuss. Face had said they were they going to talk, once back in LA. So she'd have to be patient and wait until then.

She really had made a fool of herself now. She was the one who'd instigated the moment, he'd put a stop to it – in the nick of time.

But she didn't have long to dwell on last night. As expected, Sheriff Dawson's patrol car was approaching with Dawson and Hannibal inside.

"Stay out of sight," Face told her, throwing her the van keys. "Once we're gone, you know what you've got to do?"

Amy nodded.

* * *

XXXXXXX

Amy drove the van back to the hotel to retrieve the camera. She gasped, seeing the bullet holes in the sheets, the mess of feathers and fabric strewn over the bedroom. That could have been Face - or her, for that matter. She felt sickened at the thought of losing Face, aware of the sudden ache inside of her. Whatever they did, whatever they talked about when they got back to LA, she needed him to know that she couldn't lose him, even if as a friend. Quickly, she snapped herself back into action, emptying their room, and drove out to Veteran's Park, where they'd arranged to meet in a couple of hours.

As the time ticked past, Amy grew more and more anxious. It had given her plenty of time to dwell on her relationship with Face; now she just wanted the team back, where she could see them and know that they were safe. Did they realise how much she worried about them when they went off like this? Sure, she knew they could handle themselves, but one day, would their luck run out? She constantly looked at her watch. The team should have returned. What could be holding them up? She knew the team would have either contacted her by now, or would be back here. Dawson had the reputation of playing dirty, even killing. Had things gone wrong? So wrong.... She had no other choice but to go look for them. She swallowed. If their lives were on the line, she needed to act fast. Had she already wasted too much time?

"I thought I'd seen the last of you," she said, grimacing as she put the blonde wig back on. Back in character as Mrs Joe Morgan, she headed for the sheriff's office. Her hands trembled, her mouth felt dry. She prayed that Dawson had taken them there, to hold them, ready for Decker's arrival, rather than kill them straight away. It was the only lead she had, so she had to go with it.

The deputy, Rance, was not easing Amy's nerves as he talked about delivering her to Dawson. She'd walked right into his hands. But hope and relief waved over her as Decker burst into the office and she was grateful for his rescue.

"Well, well. You never know who you'll be glad to see, do you?" she said to Decker. But his arrival meant complications. How did she convince Decker she was not in Parkland with the team? There were too many coincidences for Decker's liking now and she didn't have the same natural charm Face did. She was going to find it hard to talk her way out of this one.

* * *

XXXXXXX

After the confrontation at the warehouse, the team left Amy with Decker, helping her alibi, although Decker still wasn't buying it. His expression was stern and unyielding as she explained to him about Dawson. But when the other MPs arrived to release Amy, Decker, and his men, he had no reason to hold her.

"Miss Allen," Decker said in his gruff, confident tone that Amy was beginning to loathe, "once I've dealt with this mess, I'll be coming to find you."

"Look forward to it," she replied with her best fake smile.

Amy thought she'd be finding her own way back to LA, assuming the team would have fled. But to her surprise, and showing once again the audacity to remain under Decker's nose, the team found her to take her on the long journey home.

In the van, Amy thought it best to joke about Face's performance as a husband, trying to keep the banter between them normal. Maybe it was paranoia – she didn't want the rest of the team to suspect something had happened.

"I'm just glad to be a single woman again," she said. "You're a good politician, Face, but a crummy husband." Face gave her a look, but seemed happy to play along as he asked about the campaign results. That changed the subject quickly, so she figured burying her head in the sand was the best policy – for the time being. Her comments seemed to be forgotten as Murdock talked about giving out vanilla Snookies as his campaign for president.

"One big, happy family," Face said, over Murdock and BA's bickering. She smiled at him. She had been sickened with worry when Decker had declared they could be too late, and the team could be dead already. She'd felt elated as the team had revealed themselves with the upper hand. All of them were alive. Face alive. Yes, she thought now, looking around her, one big happy family that she was part of.

As the banter continued, Face nudged Amy. "Don't think I'll let you forget that you called me crummy," he said softly. She chewed her lip, trying to resist a smile.

"Sorry, Face. You can't be good at everything."

"We'll discuss that once we're back in LA."

* * *

XXXXXXX

Dropped off at her apartment late, she was up early the next day and back into work. Amy spent the whole day getting Dawson's story to print. It would make tomorrow's headlines. She'd even called Ted to get the finer details. Then she went shopping, having no desire to go home to her empty apartment. She hadn't heard from the team and knew she probably wouldn't for a while.

Worn out from the long day, her hands full of bags, she used her heel to close her apartment door. She dropped everything at her feet and sighed, wandering into the kitchen to put the coffee on.

It felt too late to eat dinner, and she'd snacked all day so didn't feel particularly hungry anyway. It was too early to go to bed, though she felt exhausted, physically and emotionally. She knew she had a battle on her hands with Decker. She'd need to be careful now, unless she fancied a new office in a concrete cell.

There had been barely a quiet moment to think about Face, but he was there in the back of her mind. They hadn't really managed talk about what happened – especially not in the back of the van. When would they get to talk about this? He said that they would... but when?

Would she find out how Face really felt about her?

Did he see her as just another woman? Or did he want more? Could Face... love her?

The knock at her door surprised her. It took her a moment to gather her senses, and there was another knock. "Okay, I'm coming," she mumbled wearily.

"Face?" she said, frowning. "Is there something wrong? What are you doing here?" He smiled as she quickly ushered him into her apartment, glancing along the corridor before shutting the door. Had he come over to discuss the other night? Now?

"Like I said, we need to talk... about the part where I make a crummy husband."

She chewed her lip, taken back by his calm, almost jovial tone. She tried hard not to smile, deciding to play along. "Well, maybe you could have been more attentive to my needs."

"Needs?"

"Yes," she replied softly.

"What needs would they be?" He edged closer towards her. She stepped back, keeping her expression sober. He kept walking towards her as she moved back, sexy, seductive; she wasn't going to hold out for long.

"Uh... what... um...." She reached the back of the couch, unable to escape him even if she wanted to. He moved in close, his eyes fixed on hers. His lips barely inches away. She was silenced as he cupped her face with both hands and gently pulled her into a kiss. It was soft, warm... loving. She tangled her fingers into his hair, smelling his familiar cologne. That scent she's loved, cherished, since the wedding all those months ago. He released her and smiled, his eyes mischievous.

"Was that one of those needs?"

Amy stuttered, her heart in her mouth. "Y-Yes, that would be one." What was happening?

"And this?" He kissed around her neck and along her collarbone. Her eyes closed, her whole body tingling at the touch of his lips.

"Yes," she barely whispered. Gently, he unbuttoned her blouse, his fingers tracing across her bra and cupping her breast. She moaned involuntary, which seemed to arouse him further, as his other hand stroked the back of her thigh. "Uh... Face... should we discuss the other night?"

His hands stopped, but he didn't let go of her, his body pressed against hers. He just looked at her, frowning, which turned into a smile. "Nothing happened the other night, and rightly so. We were on a mission; I needed to concentrate on that. And," he grinned, "I find it kills the moment knowing BA's outside the door."

Amy giggled, resting her hands around his collar.

"Do you want to discuss it?" he asked, gently brushing her hair back off her face. She stared at him. Face's attention was mesmerising, desired, but was this really a good idea? "Because I was rather hoping we'd take it from where we left it that night."

"Uh... no. No, I don't need to discuss it," she lied. What if she said something that just made him bolt? She wanted him to stay. She wanted to talk - openly. She didn't want to be calculating every move with him – which she was. "I just didn't know that _this_ was what you wanted, too."

"Amy, I want it... Do you?"

"Yes... I think so," she said softly. What was she saying? Yes! Of course she wanted it. But even now she doubted opening herself up. More afraid of how he'd react than anything. Did he just think this was a sexual attraction or did he realise how she really felt about him? She didn't want him running. She wanted him. Here. Now.

He pulled away, though his hands stayed on her hips, his expression concerned. "Think so? Amy, I won't do this if you're not sure."

"Of course, I want to. I just... well, when you said we'd talk, I didn't expect... _this_."

He smiled, as if satisfied. His fingertips moved along her neck, under her chin, tipping her head and he kissed her. Memories came flooding back... slow dancing at the wedding. But this kiss wasn't an act. She relaxed into his hold, her fingers combing through his hair.

She smoothed her hands down and around his shoulders, removing his jacket. Face caught it, slinging it onto the couch. She stopped and looked at him, feeling the leather strap of his shoulder holster.

"You're going to have to help me here." She laughed. "I have no idea how to take _that_ off."

Face obliged quickly, removing the shoulder holster; it followed the jacket onto the couch, then he returned to slip Amy's blouse off with delicate precision. She loosened his tie, and pulled him towards her with it.

Between the fumbling, unbuttoning, and removing of clothes, she led him into her bedroom. For a moment, she worried she looked inexperienced compared to other women he'd slept with. She threw his tie aside once inside the bedroom, ignoring her self-doubt. He was with her, not another woman.

They knelt on the bed, kissing. His firm hands stroked her body, around her back. She felt her bra loosen and smiled. His hands moved down her shoulders, taking the bra with them.

She giggled, playfully pulling him on top of her, then pushing frantically at his shorts. Then the memory of the other night hit her, she sobered. "What are we doing?"

"I don't know, and I don't care," he said, moving towards her, his naked body so close she could feel his heat. "I just know that I want you."

"Face, I'm serious." She pressed a hand against his chest.

"So am I." He looked her straight in the eye. Usually he seemed so hard to read, but this was sincerity. "Since San Diego I've tried to put you out of my mind, but I can't. I just can't. For the last few months it's been driving me crazy that I can't touch you."

"I had no idea." She stroked his cheek, her fingers brushing lightly over his lips. He took her hand and kissed it. "I'm just worried what -"

"Amy," he pulled her up so they both sat on the bed, "I'm worried, too. But I think we need to take each day as it comes. If we don't at least try, it will drive us both mad." He kissed her shoulder, his tongue licking at her skin.

His touch convinced her; she wanted this more than anything. Whether it was just for one night, or something more... Could it be something more? Either way, she wanted to know what it felt like to be Face's girl... at least once.

"But Han -"

"I'll deal with Hannibal." He kissed her firmly, and she responded, kissing him back. They sank back down, and his lips left hers, travelling down to her breast, the warmth of his mouth around her nipple.... She no longer cared about anything, especially not Hannibal.

She tried to forget her constant battle, her head arguing why she shouldn't be doing this, her body arguing why she _should_. Face aroused her with his tongue and his hands. Her body and soul desired him.

He removed her panties with ease – this was Face after all - and she moaned as he licked and kissed along the inside of her thigh, naturally parting her legs. As she felt his delicious tongue inside of her, all she could do was grip the sheets and gasp as her breath quickened. Now she definitely didn't care.

After what seemed an eternity, Amy cried out, "Face..." She was on fire and about to lose control. However incredible he was making her feel, she wanted him with her, craved him.... Face slid back up, between her thighs, kissing her body, then finally his lips reached hers. Her hands were able to tease his body now, finding his nipples. She tried to push him over, so she could straddle him. She wanted to give him the same pleasure he'd just given her. But he shook his head, as if he knew her intentions.

"But I want to -"

He kissed her lips, cheekbone, ear, then whispered, "This is about me attending your needs, remember?"

"Oh." She relaxed back, smiling. She could get used to this.

Amy pulled Face closer with her thighs. Make love to me, she wanted to say, scream even, but kept it to herself, afraid of what that four letter word would evoke.

Instead she pressed her lips against his, inserting her tongue, exploring his mouth. She'd never get bored of kissing him. Everything became frantic, urgent, lustful. She drew in a deep excited breath as she felt him enter her, and their bodies finally entangled as one. Everything from her mind vanished, only able to concentrate on the heightened sensation flowing through her body again, and again, and again. His thrusts and her rocking slowed as they gained some control and moved as one, finding a perfect rhythm that sent heat to her belly.

When she could control herself no more, digging her fingers into his shoulders, pulling his body tighter to hers, she pushed him in deeper and her body shuddered. An uncontrollable ecstatic cry escaped her. She scratched along his back and he groaned. She felt his final thrust and the pulse inside her as he too could no longer hold on.

They relaxed in a damp luscious heap, both hot from their exertion, their breathing irregular. Face, still lying on top of her, his lips pressed against her neck, groaned sexily. She held onto him, tightening her grip, not wanting him to move, not wanting to let him go. His naked, gorgeous body could sleep there for all she cared. Whether there was a earthquake or bomb outside - she didn't want to move from this bed. As her breathing calmed, she giggled.

"I'll never call you crummy again."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Tangled in the sheets, their naked bodies pressed together, they kissed and cuddled, still exploring each other. It was late, Amy knew she should be tired, but she wasn't. Her whole body buzzed, overriding exhaustion. How long had she been dreaming of this moment?

Face stroked her back, and she sighed, never wanting the soft, soothing sensation to end. She laced her fingers through his hair, never tiring from the silky feeling either. Gently pulling out of a kiss, she stroked his cheek, making him look at her. She quickly buried the urge to tell him how much she loved him. Unable to gauge where this was heading, frightening Face like a rabbit caught in headlights was not a good idea. He'd said he had a plan.

"Face, so...?" She tried to keep her eyes focussed on his.

He gently stroked her arm with his fingertips, then kissed her shoulder before answering. "From here? Uh... I say we grab any chance we can take. We could meet - not here - I'd find apartments, restaurants, hotels, and we could spend our time together that way. Is that okay?"

"We'd have to be careful. Decker is just waiting for me to make a mistake."

"I promise, I'll make sure it's completely safe. It doesn't always have to be in LA either." The palm of his hand gently travelled over the curves of her body and Amy closed her eyes to concentrating on the feeling. "It would mean some time apart, but that's nothing new."

"And what about the team?" she asked. "Hannibal? You said you'd talk to him."

"Well, uh... yes, I will..." Face gently kissed her neck. "But I was thinking... uh..." he spoke hesitantly, "you should leave the team."

"What?" Amy sat up and stared at him.

"I'd give you the stories." Face pulled himself up to sit with her.

"Two days too late!"

He frowned. "I thought _this_ was what you wanted?" He stroked her cheek. "Us?"

"It is... but... I also want to be on the team."

"You can't have both." His stare didn't leave hers, then he cupped his hands around hers. "I mean, once I've spoken to Hannibal, and I will – I have to - he'll insist you stay behind -"

"And you! You'll insist, too!" She knew this would be the condition.

"Yes, I would rather that you didn't ride along, too, for my own sanity more than anything, but we'd still need your help, Amy.... Contacts, research.... You wouldn't technically be off the team."

"Just not _on_ it." She pulled her hands away from his.

"You know it's too risky for you now as it is. Decker -"

"And meeting you won't be risky?"

"Like I said, I'd be careful. Choose the right place to meet."

"Face, I need to know..." She stared down at the sheets, clenching her fists around them, hating the thoughts that bombarded her head. Goose bumps rose on her arms. But she needed to understand. She looked back up and he was staring at her, waiting patiently. "I need to know if I would just be another door to knock on when you needed a bed - because I can't do that. I'd want to be something more."

"Amy, it's you. Only you I want."

She breathed hard and swallowed. "How long would this relationship last, Face?"

"Relationship..."

"I mean, before you get bored, or make a run for it when things get too heavy."

"I've been running for the last decade!" His face grimaced angrily. Although they sat just inches away in the bed, Amy realised the distance she'd just put between them. Her heart ached, but she had to know how much thought Face had put into this.

"I just mean would it be worth it? I could give up the team and then you'd take flight as soon as -"

"I'm trying to do something stable for a change. But I can see what's important to you! The goddamn _story _is more important to you than I am!" He was off the bed, pulling on his pants, scrambling for his clothes. His hands trembled as he partially buttoned his shirt.

"Face, stop. Listen! I didn't mean it like that."_ Oh Christ, what had she done? _She got off the bed, approaching him, but he backed away, coldly glaring at her.

"No, I understand," he said.

She stared, horrified, unable to find the words to make him stay. He was out of the bedroom, struggling to put on his clothes. She scrambled to find something to cover herself too and ran out of the bedroom to see her front door slam.

* * *

XXXXXXX

Exhaustion had finally taken over and Amy had fallen asleep. She woke to itchy eyes and a headache. She'd not slept well. Restless sleep. But she'd slept through her alarm.

Late for work, Amy rushed around her apartment, grabbing what she needed, skipping breakfast. She applied her makeup heavier than normal, to hide the circles under her eyes. She tried to shake off the ache inside her chest. She'd really upset Face. Really hurt him. Walking into the kitchen, she found the cold coffee on the counter where she'd left it. How had last night turned so terribly wrong? She picked up the phone and dialled. No answer; it switched to the answering machine.

"Face, please call me. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Can we just talk about this?"

But now her thoughts niggled her. Last night, had she given Face the excuse he needed to back-pedal out of this? Did he have second thoughts? He hadn't really confirmed whether he wanted a relationship or not. '_Only you'_, he'd said. But he'd stumbled with 'relationship'. Or was that her own imagination, self-doubt, and she'd just screwed this up completely?

She knew why Face had commitment issues, other than the team's current predicament. Leslie. Had Amy hurt him just as badly? She swallowed, sickened by that thought.

Amy ran into her office, not caring how ragged she might look. "Damn! Sorry I'm late," she said half-heartedly to Zack, putting her bag under her desk.

"Oh, thank God you're here," Zack said.

"What? Why?" Amy was suddenly alerted by Zack's anxious tone.

"Eldridge wants you in his office right away. There's a Colonel Decker is here to see you."

Damn it. Amy took a deep breath, straightened her back, and headed for Eldridge's office. She could hear raised voices and feared that she'd be fighting for her freedom.

"Colonel Decker, I assure you, Allen has always worked with integrity," Eldridge said loudly, as Amy knocked on the office door. Eldridge beckoned her in. "Just because she writes stories about them, it doesn't mean anything."

"Don't you think it's a little coincidental that wherever the A-Team is, so is Miss Allen?" Decker stood in front of Eldridge's desk, the day's newspaper in his hands. Crane stood beside him.

"What can I say? I have good contacts," Amy said, trying not to raise her voice. She really needed to keep her cool. "The A-Team makes great stories. People want to read about them. I go where the stories are; they just happen to be the same place as the A-Team."

"Contacts?" Decker threw the paper onto Eldridge's desk. "Miss Allen, it wouldn't surprise me if you were in bed with the A-Team."

Amy gasped. She opened her mouth to argue.

"Hang on a second!" Eldridge spoke before Amy could, standing up from behind his desk. "I don't like your accusations about one of my best reporters."

Best? She looked from Decker to Eldridge, both scowling at each other.

"Have you got a warrant?" Eldridge stood, hands on his hips.

"I don't need one," Decker responded. Eldridge's eyes narrowed.

"Allen went to New Mexico to investigate this Sheriff Dawson." Eldridge waved at the paper, the article in front of him.

"And as you know, Colonel," Amy said, folding her arms in front of her, "Han – Colonel Smith locked me up with you – remember?"

"She'd gotten a tip from a friend - a fellow reporter," Eldridge continued, and Amy nodded. "This had nothing to do with the A-Team. So stop wasting my time, and get out of my office!"

"Fine, but listen here, lady," Decker said, scowling at Amy. "I don't believe you for one minute. I'm watching you. That's your last chance. Come on, Captain, let's not waste any more time."

If Decker couldn't get the team, he seemed intent on taking someone down who was linked to them. And Amy was certain he was gunning for her.

Once Decker and Crane had left Eldridge's office, Amy sighed with relief.

"Thanks for that, Grant," she said.

"Hey, listen. I can't keep covering your ass," Eldridge said, sitting down behind his desk. "You're a good reporter, Allen. And yes, the A-Team stories do sell papers. But I'm worried that you've gotten a little too close to this one now. Maybe you've lost your impartiality."

"Grant!" But he was right. She was too close to the team now, too close to Face. Was she able to give a fair perspective any more?

"I can't promise the next time that jerk walks through the door I can help you," Eldridge said. "Now sit down. I've been meaning to speak to you."

Amy did as she was told, sitting in the chair in front of her boss's desk. She gripped the side of the chair, too nervous to relax.

"A job's come up, and I think you'd be great at it. These last couple of years you've worked hard and you deserve it." Eldridge pulled some papers out of a drawer and handed them to Amy. "The position isn't for a few weeks yet, so I'm thinking you could work with Tawnia in the meantime. Bring her up to speed, introduce her to any _contacts_," he raised an eyebrow, "you may have."

Amy frowned. "I'm not sure about this." Amy read the papers - it was a fantastic opportunity. Bigger salary.

"Think about it, Allen. Give me your answer by the end of the week. But I think you'd be smart to take it. It would give you the promotion you deserve, and well, it would get you out of the city."

"The city?" she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. She looked up and stared at Grant. "More like the country. It's in Jakarta!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 **

Amy put her book down, fiddling with the hem on her skirt. She'd been sitting on a park bench for over half an hour now, but had to be patient. She'd tried reading the book, but she gave up after reading the same paragraph over and over.

Her head was in turmoil; she still hadn't gotten hold of Face. Difficult, too, when she thought Decker could be watching her every move, tapping her phone. The number of times she'd left the office that day.... None of it was relieving the ache in her chest, which felt like a gaping hole. Black, void and empty. It hadn't mattered what she'd done all day, that ache had been there. Could Face be feeling the same way? She hated herself for not dealing with him more tactfully last night.

All she'd wanted to know was how serious he was. Surely he could see this from her point of view. Every time she saw Face he had another woman on his arm. Maybe he didn't realise she noticed.

She looked up and smiled at the elderly man walking towards her. She recognised him, even though he was disguised – portly, with thinning white hair, and walking with the aid of a cane. Amy quickly buried her thoughts; she'd deal with those later. Now she needed to deal with this.

"Thanks for agreeing to meet me at such short notice, Hannibal."

"So, what's this all about, kid?" Hannibal asked. He sat on the bench and placed the walking stick beside him. "You said it was urgent."

"Well, it is, in some ways." Amy sighed. Maybe it could have waited a day or two, Eldridge said she had till the end of the week, but then that would have meant dwelling on it all that time. She wanted to get her head straight, starting with the team. "I just want to know where I stand with the team. How you feel about me tagging along?" Hannibal frowned. "I've just noticed recently, like in New Mexico, I haven't been close to the action. I've felt pushed aside, unnecessarily protected." The kid gloves she'd feared. "How am I supposed to write a story, if I'm not in the middle of it?"

"That's not been my doing." Hannibal reached in his cardigan pocket and pulled out a pipe, in keeping with his character.

"But you're -"

"It's been Face. In Parkland he wanted you out of the way, and I know it was because of San Diego. He didn't want the same thing happening to you again." He puffed at his pipe as he lit it. "But even before then he was starting -"

"Face?" It was Amy's turn to frown.

"Yeah. Want to tell me why that is?"

"Uh... I don't know," Amy replied, although now, piecing it all together, she did have a clear idea. But did Hannibal? When she thought about all the excuses Face had made and the errands he'd sent her on, keeping her away from the fights that usually occurred when the team had to flex their muscles. "Maybe you should be asking Face."

"No point. He'd only deny it."

Amy stared across the park, watching a lone jogger. Maybe it was time to come clean; it might make her feel better.

"Okay... yes, damn it. Yes, I have feelings for Face – but I've been trying really hard not to act on them." She'd failed, and so had he. But Hannibal didn't need to know everything. "And maybe Face realised that. I don't know..." Amy looked Hannibal in the eye. "Hannibal, you put us together in Parkland deliberately, didn't you? Why?" Maybe she should thank him. It had finally brought them together, however briefly.

"Well, Joe Morgan did need a wife," Hannibal said. "I had an idea in San Diego, seeing Face's reaction, but I needed to be sure. I thought, this way, one of you might wake up and smell the coffee."

"Was that a good thing?"

"It couldn't go on, Amy."

They sat in silence for a moment; Hannibal puffed at his pipe. Maybe he was right; Face had said the same thing, only last night. They had needed last night, if only to get each out of their system. Yet, Face was far from out of her system....

So what did Hannibal mean by 'Face would deny it'? That Face wouldn't confess to the team his true feelings for her? That Hannibal was imagining things....

But Face hadn't denied her last night. Had he come to his senses today, realising he'd opened himself up and now needed to close himself down? Had Amy managed to give him an escape route and that's why he wasn't picking up his phone? Amy swallowed, her chest tightened, and the ache intensified. No, she'd hurt him.

"Well," Amy sighed heavily, "the reason I wanted to see you is because Decker has already been on my case. He confronted my editor first thing this morning. My boss has done all he can, but he's told me I need to be more careful. Decker's just waiting for me to make a mistake." Amy fidgeted, glancing around. All she needed was Decker to turn up right now. "So... uh... there's a job coming up... in Jakarta. Grant thinks I should take it."

Hannibal nodded, and remained silent for a while before speaking. "Kid, I can't tell you what to do, but you know there's no future with Face, right?" He looked her straight in the eye. "Until this mess of ours gets resolved, do you really want to spend your life on the run?"

No, she did not. She loved her life, the thrill of the chase – the jazz – running with the guys. But she was grateful that she could go home to normality and the routine of work, her daily life. Sometimes she needed those days where she could relax, not look over her shoulder every five minutes.

She loved Face. But would she ever be able to say those words to him? Would saying those words make him run from her? And if there was a future with Face, it was on the run. Which was no future – for her. Hannibal was right.

"You know, kid, if things were different, I'd be the last person standing in your way. But sooner or later, Face is going to have to make a choice," Hannibal said as he stood, struggling with his cane. He looked down at her. "And you know what that choice will be."

Amy nodded. Yes, she did. And it wasn't fair to force Face to make that choice – even though he'd choose the team. He always would. They were his family. And he wouldn't put Amy in that kind of danger, wouldn't expect her to give up her life as it was – so he wouldn't choose her, even if he did want her.

"And Amy," Hannibal continued, "if you did decide to stick around - for Face - I couldn't have you on the team. You know what happened in San Diego."

Amy nodded. Now she was glad she'd met Hannibal today. She'd already figured out what she should do but he made it clearer. She now knew it would be the right thing to do. For Face. He was all that mattered, even if it hurt her and him in the process.

"He won't have to choose, Hannibal," Amy said, getting up from the seat. She'd make life easier for Face, so that he didn't have to make that choice - take that decision away. Her throat tightened, like she was swallowing glass shards, and her heart ached with the decision. The hole in her chest just grew wider. She regretted how last night had ended. She never should have questioned Face's commitment, but cherished every minute she'd been in his arms. She didn't like the choice she was about to make, but it was best for everyone. "I'll accept that job. I'll leave."

Hannibal nodded. "We'll be sorry to see you go, but you know it's the right decision. Hell, you're young, bright - there's a whole future out there waiting for you. I'd hate to see you get dragged down with us, kid."

Amy stared down at her feet, unable to make eye contact, fear that tears would well and fall. This was goodbye.

This really _was_ goodbye.

"Hannibal," she said urgently, looking up, trying to hold herself together, realising that last night with Face was still raw. Hannibal didn't need to see tears. But not only did she need to apologise to Face, now she needed to tell him that she was the one running away. It had to come from her. "I'll tell Face, okay? I want him to hear it from me. Please don't say anything until I've done that."

~ The End ~

* * *

_A/N - I will continue... there are still a few more stories to be told, so watch this space!_


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